The Fulfillment

by Erin Rhew

  THE FULFILLMENT

  THE FULFILLMENT SERIES

  Book Three

  Erin Rhew

  Published by Tenacious Books Publishing

  Copyright © 2013 Erin Rhew

  All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the publisher, except by a reviewer, who may quote brief passages in a review.

  Published by Tenacious Books Publishing in 2018

  tenaciousbooks@gmail.com

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Rhew, Erin.--Third edition.

  The Fulfillment / Erin Rhew

  ISBN 978-0-9998978-4-3 (print)

  ISBN 978-0-9998978-3-6 (e-book)

  Cover Image: © iStock

  Cover Design: Anita B. Carroll www.race-point.com

  Content Edits: Katie L. Carroll

  Printed in the United States of America

  http://www.tenaciousbookspublishing.com/

  Smashwords Edition License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your enjoyment only, then please return to Smashwords.com or your favorite retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Dreams really do come true!

  This one’s for the dreamers...

  Hold fast to dreams

  For if dreams die

  Life is a broken-winged bird

  That cannot fly.

  Hold fast to dreams

  For when dreams go

  Life is a barren field

  Frozen with snow.

  ~Langston Hughes

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Cha pter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Se venteen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twe nty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Acknowledgements

  About The Author

  Chapter One

  Layla

  Then you don’t have the entire Prophecy . No one spoke for a moment following the proclamation. Layla Givens turned the words over and over in her mind. Of all the surprises she’d received since arriving at the little hut on the outskirts of the Outlander kingdom, this one shocked her the most.

  She’d memorized the Prophecy from childhood, had grown up repeating it at every Day of Dawning festival, and had dedicated her life to serving it after Werrick proclaimed her the Fulfillment. And now these Outlanders, these rebels, declared it incomplete?

  She glanced around at her mishmash group of Ethereals, Vanguards, and Outlanders. They’d traversed three different providences to discover the Outlander power, only to unearth an even bigger secret—a truth which could tear the very fabric of their religious beliefs.

  The intensity in Wil’s blues eyes matched the shock and concern in Layla’s purple ones. This addition to the Prophecy affected him too, both because of his position as the king of Etherea, and because of his feelings for her.

  A part of Layla longed to hear the words of the new Prophecy, but another part of her feared the revelation. With a few short phrases, her whole world could be turned upside down. Everything she’d ever believed in or fought for may suddenly have been for naught. She closed her eyes, clinched her fists, and steadied herself. No matter what it said, she had to know.

  “So what is the full Prophecy?” Wil squeezed her shoulder for reassurance, but his hand shook.

  Jule, the Outlander who’d made the outrageous decree, opened the top drawer of the table. She pulled out a small, nondescript scroll. Layla marveled at how such an inconsequential piece of parchment could alter her future.

  Still, her heart pounded as the older woman unraveled the paper. “This is our Prophecy.”

  A heaviness dropped into the pit of Layla’s stomach, like she’d jumped from a great height. Wil stiffened beside her.

  Jule stared at the document with reverence. “It reads, ‘In a time of war, when the land is divided amongst the two, she, with raven black hair, purple eyes, and a special blessing from the First Ones, shall bring peace. She, from one side, shall marry royalty from the other, and peace shall reign from that day forth. But a separate, outside force will rise to hinder peace, to squash it in its infancy. That rival has always harbored hatred and has sought dominance over all other sides. Only the Halfling and the one with unusual fortitude shall stop the rampant evil and ensure long-lasting peace. But if they fail, eternal night will descend upon the kingdoms forever.’”

  The words hung in the air long after Jule’s voice had faded. Wil removed his arm from the back of Layla’s chair, rubbed his face, and sighed.

  She placed her hand on his back. “What is it?”

  “It’s you and Nash.”

  “What?”

  “The Halfling and the one with unusual fortitude. It’s you and Nash. By being with him, you can fulfill both sections of the Prophecy.” He rubbed his face again. “It’s you and Nash. It always has been.”

  Her hand froze. All this time, Layla had been led to believe she and Wil would bring about peace together. She’d made decisions for herself and for the Ethereal people, ones that had cost her, based on that conviction.

  She squeezed her eyes shut and opened them again in a vain attempt to rid herself of impending panic. But her mind continued on despite her best efforts to wrangle it. Wil’s half-brother Nash hardly fit the Prophecy’s description of “royalty from the other side.” As the son of the dowager Ethereal queen, Sansolena, and the usurped Vanguard king, Rex, he straddled two worlds, just as she did. Since his physical attributes more closely resembled those of the Vanguards, and he’d chosen to abdicate the Ethereal throne, she doubted he matched the first part of the Prophecy as much as Wil did. He did fit the second half, however, given his parentage and unusual strength. But after a recent revelation—that Layla’s mother had been an Outlander and her father a Vanguard—so did she.

  She drew in a deep breath and released it in short, measured puffs. Calm etched its way down her body until she uncoiled.

  Princess Vespa, Wil’s younger sister, raised her hand. “So what do the Outlanders believe about the Prophecy, Jule?”

  Iris, Jule’s adopted daughter and Layla’s half-sister, answered instead. “We believe the second half speaks of our queen, who wants to rule all three kingdoms. But we believe that Layla is the prophesied Halfling who will rid us of our queen and her rampant evil once and for all.”

  Layla sat back. Not only did peace between the Ethereals and Vanguards—as well as her future with Wil or Nash—hang in the balance, but she now had the weight of the Outlanders’
salvation on her shoulders. And she still had yet to figure out how her only remarkable feature—black hair and purple eyes—could bring to pass the long-prophesied destinies of all three kingdoms. The First Ones’ reasons for selecting her defied logic. As far as she knew, she possessed no talent unique enough to stop centuries of war or wrangle a wayward queen. She’d been endowed at birth with the typical Vanguard strength and impulsivity, and she found no evidence of her Outlander heritage at all.

  Layla’s brother, Grant stood. “Forgive me, but can’t we ponder the new Prophecy later? Nash is still the Outlander queen’s captive, and if he really is part of the Prophecy, we can’t let her keep him a moment longer.”

  Wil’s head popped up, his face devoid of emotion. “I agree. But before we go, we need to know the Outlander power.”

  “Of course.” Iris rose. “I think it would be easier for me to show you rather than tell you.”

  “Will it hurt us?” Vespa reached for Grant’s hand as he sat back down beside her.

  “No.”

  Mia leapt from her seat. “Iris, you can’t!”

  Anger burned within Layla as she watched the purple-eyed Outlander spy grab Iris’ arm. The girl had weaseled her way into Etherea and Layla’s brother Samson’s good graces for the sake of the Outlander queen, and now Mia sought to hinder Iris from sharing the one piece of crucial information they needed.

  The Vanguard half of Layla’s blood forged a bubbling path of rage throughout her body. Only visions of strangling the Outlander or tossing her off a cliff quelled the heat. Mia glanced back and forth between Iris and Wil, oblivious to the fate Layla had planned for her.

  Vespa jumped up and placed her hands on her hips. “What’s the matter with you?” The Ethereal princess’ face flushed bright red, further accentuating her blonde hair. “Are you trying to protect the queen?”

  “Of course not.” Mia focused her attention on Wil. “I just…”

  “Stand back, Mia.” Iris sidestepped the other girl’s attempt to grab her.

  Mia crumpled to the ground. Gut wrenching sobs emanated from her body. Samson knelt down and collected her. She clung to him.

  Mia’s resistance fueled Layla’s desire to know the truth about the Outlanders’ power.

  Iris closed her eyes. A shudder ran through her. Layla leaned forward as the other girl shimmered, her very appearance almost translucent. With one final ripple, Layla no longer saw Iris, but herself, staring back. She gasped.

  Her sister-turned-doppelganger grinned. “We’re shape shifters.”

  Chapter Two

  Wil

  When Iris transformed into an exact replica of Layla, Wil’s heart tripped over itself. Ice flowed through his veins while, at the same moment, he broke out into a sweat. It can’t be . He stood. The force of his movements toppled his chair over. It slid several feet before coming to rest against Iris’ back wall.

  “Oh no, no, no.”

  Without another word, he fled the wooden cottage. The claustrophobic room had begun to strangle him. Once outside, the sunlight burned his eyes, but he kept running until he reached the lake. There, he bent over and emptied the contents of his stomach into a patch of underbrush.

  Footsteps crunched behind him on the path. He knew they belonged to Layla. The ache in his chest grew more insistent. He put up a hand to stop her, but she grabbed it.

  “What is it, Wil?” She knelt down beside him and rubbed his back with her free hand.

  “Go,” he croaked. Bile burned his throat. He refused to make eye contact with her, unable to face her in the light of this new truth.

  “Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not leaving you like this. Tell me what’s wrong.”

  She placed her small hand on his cheek and guided his face toward hers. Her tenderness set off a tidal wave of emotion inside him. Part of him yearned to press his lips to hers while the other part of him demanded he flee. Her gaze washed over him, her concern palpable, but he squeezed his eyes shut to block it out. To look into those purple pools, to be reminded…

  “Wil.”

  Her tone, both imploring and insistent, forced one word from his lips. “Please.”

  He snuck a glance at her. She bit her bottom lip and her brows furrowed, an exasperated expression on her lovely face. Pain, anger, and self-loathing stabbed at him. He turned away, yanking his hand out of her grasp. She didn’t protest, but the hurt in her silence screamed at him.

  Layla stood. She started to speak but stopped herself several times. He remained silent, waiting her out. He wanted—no, he needed —her to go.

  She bent down beside him again and pressed her forehead against his back. “I wish I could help you. Just tell me when you’re ready.”

  She rose again and walked away. Only then did he lift his head and turn to watch her.

  A familiar ache—longing—coursed through him. She never once glanced back.

  Once Layla passed the edge of the forest and disappeared from sight, Wil unfurled and sat, head in hands, beneath the shade of a tall tree.

  He had known she would eventually come. And only she could confirm that which plagued his soul. The answer—the truth—ate at him, gnawing him to a shell of his former self, but he still needed to hear her say it.

  Unlike Layla, who had marched toward him with purpose, she slunk his way. He heard her approaching long before he saw her. When she came around a tree into view, Wil glowered at her. He clenched his teeth until pain radiated up into his temples.

  Mia’s strange eyes peered from beneath her black lashes. Fury, so strong he feared he couldn’t control it, rose inside him. For the first time in his life, he felt more Vanguard than Ethereal. He stood and drew himself up to his full height. Mia stepped back.

  “Was it you?” The words choked him with their bitter aftertaste.

  “Yes.”

  Though spoken in a whisper, her confirmation barreled into him with more force than Vance’s sword. He doubled over. His strangled breath wheezed out in short, desperate puffs.

  “No.” Angry tears rolled down his cheeks. He batted at them, their presence only increasing his ire.

  “Wil, I’m so sorry.” Mia stepped toward him.

  “Don’t,” he growled. He held up his hand to stop her. “Just don’t.” All the lessons from Volton Mars and his mother on how to be a good king, a good man, had failed to prepare him for this moment. The sheer rage coursing through his veins frightened him. He struggled to maintain a tentative grip on his self-control.

  She waited, saying nothing. The truth assaulted him, wave after terrible wave. She’d shifted into Layla. She’d come into his tent. He’d made love to her .

  Wil took a deep breath, but it did little to settle him. “Why did you do it?”

  She placed another marjoram leaf into her mouth before she spoke. Glancing around, she lowered her voice. “The queen has my family. She’s threatened to kill them if I don’t cooperate.”

  “I thought you were Layla.” He raised his hands in the air to emphasize his point. “You deceived me.” Energy spent, his once animated limbs fell by his sides, lifeless.

  “I know.” Tears streaked her face.

  “You took something from me.” His voice broke on the words. “You took something I can never get back—something I’d saved for Layla. Not you.” He stabbed an accusatory finger at her with each word. “Not. You.”

  “I know.” She bore the brunt of his accusations without flinching.

  He wanted to lash out, to hurt her as she had hurt him. But he couldn’t. As much as he wanted to, he simply couldn’t.

  “Why?” He forced out the question, exhausted from fighting his own wrath.

  She’d already answered the question, but he needed to ask again. His mind refused to wrap around this level of treachery. Earlier he’d believed Mia to be dangerous, but he’d never guessed just how far she would go.

  Mia blinked, her tears falling faster. “I told you; the queen has my family. She will kill them if I don’t do what
she asks.”

  “And what did she ask?” Wil had to know why she’d taken his honor—what she had accomplished through this deception.

  “My main mission was to lure you all here, and my secondary mission was to drive a wedge between you and Layla. I was supposed to make you fall in love with me, but I couldn’t. You never even gave me a second glance. The queen told me to shift into Layla if I failed at getting you to love me, and…”

  Wil took a deep, laborious breath. “And betray me.”

  “Yes.” She lowered her head. “I never wanted to hurt you, Wil. I…I like you, a lot.”

  He glared at her, not wanting her to confess any feelings for him after what she’d done. Mia ate another leaf while they stood in uncomfortable silence.

  She shuffled from one foot to the other. “It was Elder Werrick’s idea that I shift into someone with black hair and purple eyes to gain access to the kingdom.”

  “Werrick?” A fresh bud of anger bloomed inside him. “What does he have to do with any of this?”

  “Elder Werrick is from the Outlands. He claimed to have given up his allegiance, though he never did. He still works closely with the queen, but she didn’t trust him enough to share the full Prophecy with him until recently.”

  His eyes squeezed shut, Wil grappled with her story and with whether to believe her or not.

  “Why would an Ecclesiastical Elder not know the full Prophecy?”

  “Almost no one knows the complete Prophecy—only the queen and those who’ve managed to transcribe a copy. But Cataleen had to share it with Werrick in order to bring him in on her plans. She said that if he’d help her get rid of Layla, she would help him overtake the Voltons. He resents you and Layla for forcing him to undo the binding, and he loathes the Voltons.”

  From his dealings with the Elder, Wil understood how devious and conniving the Ecclesiastic could be, but he never imagined Werrick going this far. The man professed to serve the kingdoms with neutrality and swore an oath to devote his life to the Prophecy and its fulfillment. Yet, he would give all that up for a chance at revenge on Wil, Layla, and the Voltons?

  “So, you pretended to be a Prophecy candidate, remained coy to pique our curiosity about the Outlanders, and worked to separate Layla and me so we could not bring about peace through our marriage?”